


If the Body Were Not the Soul

by Chrism



Category: Captain America (Comics), Iron Man (Comic), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Missing Scene, Rhodeycon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-11 02:39:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1167659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chrism/pseuds/Chrism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim is no stranger to waiting for "the news" on his best friend, and he knows one of these days it will be the last time. Today, at least, he isn't waiting alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If the Body Were Not the Soul

**Author's Note:**

> Canon compliant interlude set during Invincible Iron Man #22. Context given within the story, so if you haven't read the series, you shouldn't be lost.

Jim leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, tipped his head down to massage gingerly at his temples. Tension and soreness crept up his neck, throbbed behind his eyes, and his stomach twisted sourly with hunger. He closed his eyes, and they felt dry and gritty, but the dark behind his eyelids was soothing, eased the ache in his head a bit. He supposed he should be considering sleep, since they had the whole hotel to themselves, or checking on Tony again, but he could hear from the discussion going on within the make-shift hospital room that nothing had changed since he'd moved to a chair in the hallway. 

Exhaustion twinged in every muscle after days spent running on adrenaline, caffeine, and power naps (a fitting ritual to resurrect Tony Stark if there ever was one), working around the clock to put Tony's plan to restore his mind into action. Not that Jim had slept well in weeks, really, with Tony on the run from Norman Osborn, keeping the registration information from the SHRA out of his claws until it could be erased. 

It wasn't that simple, of course, it never was with Tony's brilliant solutions to monstrous problems. The final copy of the info was stored in Tony's Extremis-enhanced mind, and deleting it fully meant erasing everything, every bit that made Tony who he was, from his first memories down to his most basic bodily functions. 

At the time Jim had been busy with his own duties as War Machine, but the worry nagged at him in quiet moments, wondering if Tony was still out there, if Osborn had caught him, if he'd ever even know what had happened to Tony if he did. It had been a sick sort of relief to see Iron Man appear on damn near every network, even with Osborn driving him into the ground. That tiny shred of relief had quickly evaporated into horror when Tony went down, taking hit after hit...

Jim opened his eyes quickly, blinked away the spots blurring his vision until the patterned carpet between his feet was clear. He heard quiet steps, and a pair of worn but well-shined black boots stepped on the patch of floor before him and stopped, black-clad knees coming into view as the newcomer squatted down. Jim looked up, squinted at the light in the hallway again, to meet the brown eyes of Captain America. Bucky Barnes, to be specific, and you had to be with two of them running around in the stars and stripes. He was in uniform, shining metallic blue over his head and shoulders, the look on his face sober, but also warm.

“You want a drink? Water? Coffee?” Barnes asked, his voice quiet. Jim rubbed his hands over his face and sat up in the chair, considering. Coffee probably wouldn't do much to wake him, at this point, but it couldn't hurt to try. Jim gave his eyes one last rub and looked up at Barnes, who'd used his moment of thought to stand, red-gloved hands resting patiently on his utility belt.

“Thanks Cap, coffee sounds great. Black, one sugar” Jim responded, appreciative, and Barnes just nodded, striding towards the stairwell. He breathed a silent prayer of thanks; the lobby downstairs served a decent cup of joe. He wasn't sure he could take another weak, sour cup of the sample coffee placed in the other rooms on this floor.

Jim tipped his head back against the wall and closed his eyes while he waited. He should take a nap, and soon, but he couldn't imagine accomplishing that feat in the next few hours, his thoughts still jumping to the room beyond at every opportunity. What if they'd hurt Tony worse by trying to bring him back? What if he had a heart attack because they'd put the repulsor node in his chest? What if the tech just wasn't working right with his brain so he couldn't wake up? On and on went the undercurrent of his thoughts, anytime he stilled long enough for them to be heard.

He pushed away the one thought he wasn't ready to truly face; the thought that Tony couldn't wake because of Osborn's beating in the desert. The thought that while Jim might not have been able to stop the deletion, he could have been there for that, could have kept Osborn and his stolen armor from ripping through Tony's outdated suit. But he knew it was too soon to spin off into regret, that it had only been a few hours since they'd tried waking Tony. Blessedly, Jim was pulled from his thoughts by the thud of a chair being set down beside his. 

Jim opened his eyes to the sight of Barnes standing over him, holding out a tall cup of coffee.

“You're a life saver,” Jim told him, reaching for the cup gratefully. The corner of Barnes mouth quirked up.

“I do what I can. Mind if I join you?” He asked, as Jim took the coffee and held it under his nose, inhaling deeply. 

“Please,” Jim nodded, taking a scalding sip while Barnes got settled, leaning the shield against the side of his own chair and sitting with a sigh. Quiet stretched between them for a moment, while Jim took another swallow of coffee and Barnes rested his own drink on his thigh. 

“Anything happening?” Jim asked, and flicked his fingers toward the door across the hall, where the voices from within had dulled to an occasional murmur. He knew the answer already, they would have called him back into the room if there'd been a change, but he was tired of sitting with his own thoughts. He knew he wouldn't be good company for anyone right now, much less a near stranger, but here was Captain America sitting beside him, he may as well talk to the man.

“Not yet,” Barnes responded, turning towards him a bit. He looked apologetic. “The docs haven't changed their tune, they got no idea what to expect with all Stark's...modifications.” Jim nodded once, breathed a quiet sigh. He could probably write a dissertation on how he felt about Tony's 'modifications' right at this moment. 

“How about you, how're you holding up?” Barnes tone was light, but genuine, his brow furrowed a little with concern.

“Oh, you know, I've had worse days,” Jim replied, which was only the truth. “You think I'd be used to this by now, since he's managed to keep his dumb ass alive this long, but...” He trailed off, felt a little embarrassed and melodramatic, he must be worn out if he was whining about this to Barnes as soon as he sat down. 

“But you still wonder if this is it, this is the time his luck's finally run out,” Barnes finished the thought, in a tone that wasn't questioning, because he knew that feeling too well from experience. And he must know, Jim figured, you didn't spend years in this business, fighting alongside your best friend, without spending your fair share of days wearing a rut in the waiting room floor, sure that this will be the day the bad news comes, that death can only be cheated so many times.

Jim just nodded, didn't trust his voice as he thought again of that moment on the roof, carrying the hard drive that contained Tony's back-up held close to his chest so his tired fingers didn't slip. He'd been up all night tearing apart old armor for wiring, Tony's voice familiar and a little tinny, instructing him on what to do from the speaker on an old helmet. He'd listened to the directions twice, checked the connections three times, and lost count of the prayers he sent up as the god of thunder lined up his strike, every hair standing on end as he brought his hammer down on the shield and...Tony jolted and then lay still. Agonizing moments stretched into minutes as they clustered around the gurney to watch Dr. Blake check Tony, waited for him to wake. Waited and waited and...well they were still waiting and who knows how long it would go on. Right back to not knowing when or even if they'd have Tony back; Jim thought he could scream if he even had the energy for that left. 

“Well,” Barnes went on, bringing Jim back from his thoughts. “I've never believed much in luck. But, I do know a fighter when I see one. When we found Steve, he wasn't—wasn't himself, at first. It took him a little while, to find his way back. But he did it,” Barnes was turned towards Jim, now, his eyes bright as he laid his hand on Jim's shoulder. “And no one here has given up on Stark, least of all Tony himself. Give him time.” Barnes squeezed his shoulder briefly and waited for Jim's grateful, tired smile and let him go, sat back in his chair again to sip at his own coffee. He was right, Jim knew, no one could cling to the shred of life left in him quite like Tony.

“Thanks, Cap,” Jim said, still smiling a little. He knew the whole thing was silly, worrying this way when Steve Rogers had just walked out the door like he hadn't spent the last year dead. Or not-dead or...Jim still needed the full story on how that one had turned around. He'd keep worrying until that son of a bitch woke up, of course, but for the moment his head felt a little lighter, the knot in his stomach smaller. He wouldn't be sleeping soon, he knew, but he could think of a few ways to pass the time. Barnes seemed lost in thought, so Jim nudged him him with his elbow to grab his attention. 

“So, about Rogers, you got time to tell that tale?”


End file.
